


Black Intentions

by SushiOwl



Series: Black, White and Grey [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon!Stiles, Demonic Possession, Gore, M/M, Pre-Slash, the rest of the pack's there too, they just don't speak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The demon is trapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked for a continuation of [Black Eyes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/965177), so here it is.
> 
> This contains spoilers for the season eight finale of Supernatural.

“What is that?” Derek asked as he watched Chris spray paint symbols in the spaces of a pentagram on his loft's floor.

Chris checked the print out in his hand before he put one last touch on the painted image then stepped away. “It is called a Devil's Trap,” he said as he folded the sheet up and put it in his pocket. “My associates emailed it to me, along with a summoning spell, so we can trap and hold the demon while they're on they're way.” He went over the coffee table, where Deaton was musing over some things he'd brought from his own stash of helpful ingredients.

“How far away are they?” Scott asked from his position on the spiral stairs, his hands wrapped around Allison's. He'd only just stopped freaking out about his best friend being possessed by an honest to God demon. Had Allison not been able to calm him, Derek probably would have knocked him unconscious. 

“About a day,” Chris said absently, looking at a different piece of paper now, no doubt the summoning spell he'd mentioned. 

Derek was not handling this as well as he should have been. He had never known what kind of a significant place Stiles held in his life until he wasn't there anymore. He'd always had a kind of begrudging physical attraction to the idiot, but this—this was something else. This was like losing one of his pack members, like the holes that Boyd and Erica had left. Stiles had done a spastic wriggle right into his heart.

The fact that Stiles had feelings for him too, if that disgusting demon was to be believed, was like rubbing salt into his wounds. He had to get him back, to make sure he was safe. He didn't care if they didn't pursue anything between them. He couldn't lose him forever.

Derek looked up at the upper level of the loft, where Peter, Cora and Isaac were all watching them. The previous night, Cora had tried to calm him down and get him to talk about his interaction with the demon, but he had clammed up and refused. He'd also failed to sleep, even though she'd threatened to claw his face off when he kept pacing. He ended up just lying in his bed and staring at the wall.

“Alright,” Deaton said as he carried a bowl of a mix of foul smelling things over to the trap and set it down at the edge. He looked around at all of them. “This demon will try to play to your feelings by twisting words. It knows everything about Stiles and everything that Stiles knows about us. Don't listen to it.” He looked at Scott, pinning him with his gaze. “It may have Stiles's body, but it's not Stiles, and it won't be until we get the demon out of him. Don't let him manipulate you just because Stiles is your best friend.”

Scott swallowed, his brows furrowed and mouth drawn down in a frown. He didn't do anything more than nod.

Deaton turned back to the bowl, crouching next to it. He started speaking, clipped and confident, in a language Derek recognized as Latin after a moment. Then he lit a match and dropped it into the bowl, causing a cloud of smoke to billow up.

Stiles was just there, as if materialized out of nothing. He looked shocked to be there, but when he looked down and found the trap his shoulders sagged. He turned and spotted Derek, a sick grin spreading across his face as his eyes went inky black again. “Well, this is a surprise. I was in Utah, trying to convince a Mormon compound prophet that mass suicide of his followers was the way to get his own planet. He accepted that I was the second coming of Moroni so easily. Humans.” He shrugged with a kind of smooth easy Stiles didn't possess. “They'll probably do it even though I'm not there.”

“Why would you do something like that?” Deaton asked, some disgust showing on his usually unflappable face. 

The demon whirled around on one foot, smiling at him. “Everybody knows that when you commit suicide it's an express train straight to hell. So that's—“ He made vague waving gesture with his hands toward the ceilings. “—two hundred or so more souls. Crowley's big on numbers.”

“Crowley?” Deaton asked, eyes narrowing.

“Current king of hell,” the demon replied lightly, before he started languidly walking the edge of the trap. “I don't know. I didn't vote for him. He runs things just about as anyone can.” He swung his arms in wide arcs, looking bored. “So what are you planning to do with me? Exercise me? Keep me trapped forever?”

“Actually we've got two guys coming for you,” Chris said, walking up to stand near the edge of the trap. “Maybe you've heard of them. The Winchesters?” When the demon froze, Chris smirked.

“Ah,” the demon said, swallowing and walking over to the edge to stare at Chris. “Yeah, I'd rather not meet those two, so how about we make a deal?”

“Yeah, right,” Chris said, shaking his head.

“No, really, you break the seal and I'll leave this kid's body. No harm, no foul. Whaddya say?” He put on a smile, eyes human because that was far more trustworthy.

“And you can go possess some other poor bastard? Not a chance,” Chris said, turning away from the demon and walking over to the couch with Deaton. 

The demon made a noise of whiny exasperation that was very Stiles, and it made Derek take a step forward before he remembered himself. That wasn't Stiles. That was just a creature wearing Stiles like clothing.

All of the sudden a thought came to him. Was Stiles aware of what the demon was doing? Or was he in some kind of comatose state, locked away in his own mind? Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

The demon looked around the room, his gaze landing on Scott. He licked his lips, before he moved to the edge of the trap. “You don't know about the Winchesters. They don't care about a nineteen-year-old kid. They'll kill him to get to me.”

Scott's eyes popped open wide, and he stood up, still holding Allison's hand. “Is that true?” he asked, looking at Chris.

The hunter looked between them, before he raised his hand in a placating manner. “The Winchesters have a reputation, but if we talk to them—“

“ _Reputation?_ ” the demon spat, before he let out a hideous laugh. “Are you kidding? They're killers! They have slaughtered thousands! Not just demons either. Vampires. Angels.” He looked around at all of them. “Werewolves. They don't care about the humans that get in their way, oh no. Every possessed human is just collateral damage.”

“No,” Chris said rather urgently. “I know these boys. They follow a code just like we do.”

The demon rolled his eyes. “Oh please, when did you work with them? Ten years ago? Fifteen years ago? Guess what, grandpa, they've changed. It all started when they died and went to hell!” His voice resonated around the room, bouncing off the huge glass windows. “Can we talk about how the short one started the apocalypse? Or maybe how they recently decimated heaven?”

The demon looked around at everyone, hands up. “No? No one? I don't know if you recall those spectacular meteor showers from a few months back, but that was actually all of the angels falling out of the sky! Wings burning! Thousands dead!” He threw his hands up. “Fuck, I don't know why anyone thinks the Winchesters can do jack shit, because they just end up making everything worse.”

With a heavy sigh, the demon glanced at each of them, before his eyes landed on Peter. “You! Uncle psychopath! What do you think these assholes are going to do to you when they get here? They kill any monster who has ever harmed a human. You fall into that category.”

Peter flicked his eyes around and didn't answer, though it was obvious by his he planned to make himself scarce with these other hunters arrived.

The demon finally turned to Derek, just like he had been expecting, so he stood tall and confident as the demon came to the edge of the trap that was nearest him. “Okay, you, do you think you'd going to be able to fuck this kid if he is dead? You seem like a respectable werewolf, most likely not into necrophilia. I got news for you. There isn't going to be anything left to bone once the Winchesters get a hold of him.”

That got Derek some interesting looks from everyone else. He swallowed, knowing his cheeks were burning. “You're not going to hurt anyone else,” he growled.

“Oh for the love of all that is unholy,” the demon said, tossing his arms into the air. “You people are impossible. And naïve as Catholic schoolgirls if you think the Winchesters are going to give a shit about this kid. They'll probably just stab me with that ancient demon killing knife of theirs and call it a day.”

The demon let out a sigh, and Derek hoped that meant he was done, but then he looked at Derek again, his eyes going black as a slow smile crossed his face. “You're right though,” he said. “In this trap, I can't hurt anyone else.” He showed his teeth. “But I can hurt this kid.”

“What?” Scott asked immediately, letting go of Allison to walk forward, but she grabbed onto him again to make him stop.

The demon grinned at him. “I don't need this meat suit intact or even alive to ride it.” He pulled up the sleeves to the shirts he was wearing, making a show of presenting his pale, unblemished skin. The air in the room was tense, like everyone had taken a breath and was holding it. The demon set his fingernails against his wrist, right under the heel of his hand, dug them in and dragged them up. Stiles's flesh tore like paper, oozing blood that dripped onto the ground.

“Stop it!” Scott cried, trying to go for the demon again. Isaac leapt off of the overhang, grabbing onto him and holding him back even as he watched, wide-eyed as the demon kept going, rending Stiles's arm to so much butchered meat. “Stop it, please!” Scott yelled, knees giving out, and Isaac and Allison went to the ground with him.

Derek had his claws out and his fangs bared, breathing rapidly through his nose like an incensed bull. He just wanted to rip the demon out of Stiles and tear it to shreds until there was nothing left that could ever hurt anyone, especially Stiles, again. But there was nothing to attack here, nothing to beat into submission. He didn't know what to do.

“Ooh, that's pretty, isn't it? I bet you're all glad you didn't invite the good sheriff to this little gathering, aren't you?” the demon said, spinning around to show them all the carnage of his arm. “Nice contrast. Stings a little. I wonder what happens if I do his neck.” He lifted his bloodied hand.

“What are you trying to accomplish!” Peter blurted out, and everyone looked at him. He looked a bit surprised himself, but he swallowed and went on. “Do you think there's even a slightest chance that you come out of this alive if you kill Stiles?”

“I'm dead no matter what,” the demon said, his hand still poised at his neck, nails touching skin lightly. There was blood still dripping slowly from his elbow.

“Not necessarily,” Peter said, before he went over to the spiral staircase, starting down. “You don't have any bargaining chips left if you take away his life. It's the only thing keeping the other hunters from killing you outright.” He walked across the floor and stopped right at the edge of the trap. “Everyone here, his friends, they'll beg and plead for his life. Is there a way to kill a demon without killing the host?”

The demon stared at him for long moments, before he slowly lowered his hand, looking around at everyone. “Not really,” he admitted. “All they can really do is send me back to hell.”

“Is that better than dying?” Peter asked.

The demon just nodded.

Derek let his claws and fangs withdraw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He hadn't felt the urge to hug his uncle in a very long time, but very suddenly he just wanted to embrace him and shower him in gratitude. He didn't, but the thought was there.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a third part as well. Next: Sam and Dean arrive.


End file.
